


Heart of Blue

by geekymoviemom



Series: Pieces of Echoes [6]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Steve Rogers, Sickfic, Superfamily (Marvel), mentions of period-typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekymoviemom/pseuds/geekymoviemom
Summary: Steve knew the arc reactor could make it easier for Tony to get sick, especially after his flight into space carrying a missile.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Pieces of Echoes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1442440
Comments: 17
Kudos: 92
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2020





	Heart of Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [positronic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/positronic/gifts).



> Dear positronic, thank you so much for your generous bid on my MTH auction! I hope you enjoy this fluffy, domestic superfamily fic featuring Steve and Peter taking care of Tony 💗.
> 
> This fic fits in chapter 12 of my superfamily fic Pieces of Echoes, and can be considered a missing or extra scene for that chapter 😊. If you haven’t read that fic, the basic premise is that Steve was defrosted early and sent to search for Tony and Peter after their kidnapping in Afghanistan, and follows MCU canon with a few differences. This fic takes place a few weeks following the Battle of New York.

Steve woke with a start, shivering and panting for breath as the dregs of yet another nightmare faded into the near pitch-blackness of the room. Instinctively, he reached his arm over to Tony's side, grunting in frustration that bordered on anguish when he found nothing except for the cool, bare sheets of the bed.

No wonder it was so dark.

As much as Steve had always disliked the bright streetlights that used to shine directly onto his childhood bed in Brooklyn, he had quickly grown used to the light blue glow of Tony's arc reactor once they started sharing a bed. To Steve, the constant blue light emanating from the centre of Tony's chest was comforting, a signal that his beloved fella was alive and well, and there with him.

And after having to watch in horror as that light almost flickered into nothingness following Tony's self-sacrificing flight into space, Steve had grown even more attached to it. The way it shone through the thin, ratty t-shirts Tony often wore, its ever-present hum that Steve could hear in place of a heartbeat, and the warmth it radiated whenever Steve touched it with his hands or lips while they made love.

That soft blue light was Tony's heart, and as such, it was up to Steve to nurture and cherish it.

Except now, it was missing.

"Are you all right, Captain Rogers?" JARVIS asked softly, so as not to startle him. "Do you require assistance?"

"No thank you, JARVIS, I'm okay," answered Steve. He scrubbed at his eyes with his palms, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. "I'm just… where's Tony?"

_Why isn't he here with me?_

"Mr Stark's current location is his laboratory, Captain," replied JARVIS. "Would you like me to contact him?"

Steve sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He should've known.

"No, I'll just go and find him," he said as he reached for the t-shirt sitting on his bedside table. He and Tony usually slept shirtless; Steve loved the feel of Tony's smooth olive skin pressed up against his, but he didn't feel it was appropriate for him to wander around the house that way because of Peter.

"Is Peter doing okay?" he asked as he pulled on the t-shirt, raking his fingers through his mussed-up hair. Peter had been having nightmares recently too, the poor boy, on top of all of his other odd symptoms that had so far managed to stump not only Tony, but also his entire team of medical specialists. They had scheduled an appointment to meet with an acquaintance of Director Fury's who was a genetics specialist, but that wasn't until the fall, and both Steve and Tony were rapidly becoming more and more concerned about Peter as the weeks went on.

"Master Peter is currently sleeping peacefully, Captain," said JARVIS. "His vital signs are within his normal parameters."

Steve nodded as he reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, downing the whole thing in three large gulps.

"Thank you," he said as he caught an errant drop with his wrist. Even if Peter's resting vital signs were no longer considered normal for a boy of his age, it was comforting to know that at least one of the three of them was getting some halfway decent sleep.

"You are quite welcome, Captain."

Setting his water glass down, Steve padded out into the hallway and towards Peter's room. While JARVIS had said that he was doing fine and Steve had no reason to believe the UI wasn't telling the truth, he still preferred to see for himself. With so much uncertainty surrounding them—gods, aliens, other dimensions, Peter's health, and Tony's ongoing obsession with hunting down and destroying the Ten Rings—Steve felt he could never be too careful when it came to either of them.

Stepping inside Peter's sauna-like bedroom, Steve breathed out a short sigh of relief as he saw that yes, his little guy was in fact sleeping peacefully. A lump rose in Steve's throat as his eyes swept across his precious son, huddled down underneath his many layers of blankets with his stuffed polar bear clutched to his chest. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Steve brushed a stray curl from Peter's forehead before leaning down to kiss him, patting him gently on the shoulder once he'd stood back up.

"Sweet dreams, little guy," he whispered. _And let's hope they stay that way._

Exiting Peter's room, Steve headed next for the kitchen, following the strong scent of freshly-brewed coffee and frowning as he saw that the coffee pot was already half empty. He had learned of Tony's love of coffee—Steve flat-out refused to call it an addiction—way back when Peter was in the hospital in Afghanistan after their harrowing escape from the Ten Rings. But in the weeks since what the news people had taken to calling the Battle of New York, Tony's coffee consumption seemed to have grown exponentially.

As had his armoured suit collection. And while Steve could understand Tony making upgrades to his Iron Man armour as he became more familiar with how it worked and what he might need during a mission, this was different. Tony had explained to Steve that he'd flown that missile through the portal in order to save him, and that in his mind it hadn't even been a choice. But now that Tony had gotten a bird's-eye view of what the Avengers—their newly-minted team of superheroes—could potentially be facing, he felt he needed to do more to protect the people he loved.

And while Steve could certainly understand that sentiment, he was very concerned about its execution. In his eyes, Tony seemed to have come to the conclusion that he was somehow personally responsible for the alien invasion, and therefore now needed to do whatever it took to prevent it or something similar from happening again.

A "suit of armour around the world", he'd said to Steve late one night.

Only Steve hadn't thought he'd meant it literally. At the rate Tony was going, though, soon enough he was going to have enough suits to not only fit around the world, but stretch out to the moon as well.

After placing nearly a dozen coffee cups littering the counter into the dishwasher, Steve grabbed two bottles of water and padded out into the living room towards the lab, where he found Tony standing with his head and shoulders inside what appeared to be the chest and back plates of yet another new armoured suit.

"Just give me a second, hon," he called as he socketed something into place, punctuating his words with a muffled cough. "Just gotta get this tightened, and…" He poked his head out, letting out a soft groan as he wiped a smudge of grease from his cheek. "What's going on? Is Pete okay?"

"Peter's fine, Tony," Steve said as he set down the water bottles. "I'm just… it's already 0300, and I was hoping you could come to bed for a while."

Tony's eyebrows knitted together as he reached for one of the waters, stifling another cough. "Honey, we've talked about this. I need to—"

"Yes, I know what you think you need to be doing," Steve cut in. "But I think what you really need to be doing is getting some rest. I know you didn't get much sleep when you were in D.C., and now you've got this cough, and—"

"I just got one of those damn tickles in my throat, honey. It's nothing," Tony muttered as he gulped down another drink of water. "And I didn't sleep down in D.C. 'cause you weren't with me. And 'cause Senator Stern is a first-rate asshole."

"Yes, sweetheart, I know that," Steve said evenly. Steve had never personally met the senator in question, but when both Tony and Nick Fury could agree on someone's level of assholery, as Tony liked to put it, then he supposed it had to be true.

"But I also know that going for weeks on end with only a couple hours' sleep isn't exactly healthy," he added. "And I just…" he trailed off, not wanting to voice the big concern that often occupied the forefront of his mind. "I just miss you."

Tony tilted his head, his brown eyes softening in the soft nighttime lights of his lab as he reached for Steve's hand.

"Okay, so… you wanna tell me what's really on your mind, or are you gonna make me try and guess?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Steve immediately huffed, shifting on his feet. It still unnerved him at times just how well Tony could read him.

"I'm worried that you're gonna get sick, sweetheart," he finally murmured. "And with that thing embedded in your chest, I'm just—"

_I'm just terrified that something terrible will happen._

Tony let out a rather raspy sigh, clearing his throat as he cradled Steve's hand between his own. "Steve, honey, I've told you. I don't get sick. It's been at least three years since I've had anything more than a head cold, and even that was only for a day or so. So I don't think you need to be worrying about me."

"Yeah, I know that. But you also know that I'm gonna worry about you anyway," Steve said, rather petulantly. "I just can't help it. Not after—"

_Not after I saw you fly into space and leave me behind._

"You never even saw a doctor once we came back from Afghanistan, sweetheart, so how can you be sure that there's nothing—"

"Honey, I've told you this about a million times too," interrupted Tony. "With the currently available surgical tools and techniques, there's nothing anyone can do about it, so there's really no point." He dropped Steve's hand, shaking his head as he stepped back. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? I thought you were fine once we swapped out the palladium core, so… what? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Steve said quickly, reaching for Tony's elbows. He pressed a soft kiss to Tony's forehead, relieved when Tony's hands came to rest in their usual spot on his biceps. Now obviously wasn't the time for Steve to mention all of the research he'd been doing on the possible lung capacity and immune system problems having a big piece of hardware embedded into one's sternum could cause.

Or the slight rattle in Tony's breathing that Steve had noticed ever since he'd got back from D.C. Or the deep purple circles under his eyes and the faint greyish tint to his olive skin that probably only Steve would notice.

All of which were made worse by Tony's constant worry over Peter, and the millions of unanswered questions they had about what was happening to him.

And after dealing with a literal alien invasion, one that saw Tony battered and beaten even before he flew into space carrying a nuclear missile and nearly losing his life in the process, there was no telling how stressed Tony's body had become. Add that on top of all of the stress that had followed the battle, the never-ending hounding by reporters, and having to deal with a bunch of power-hungry bureaucrats down in D.C., and Steve had half a mind to pull Peter out of school early so the three of them could escape to California now, where their home was a lot more secluded.

"Will you come to bed with me? Please?" Steve asked as he wound his arms around Tony's waist, drawing him flush against him. He could feel his own body relaxing as the warmth of the arc reactor radiated through their t-shirts, and his ears picked up its comforting hum. "I always sleep better when you're with me."

"Aww, honey," Tony murmured against his chest. His calloused palms slipped underneath Steve's shirt to glide up his back, sending ribbons of warmth shooting throughout Steve's body. "You know you can always get me to do anything when you start talking like that."

Steve pursed his lips, swallowing his groan of frustration.

"I didn't mean it like that," he muttered. "I just—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know you didn't," said Tony. He lifted his head, his lips twitching into a soft smile as he studied Steve's face. "Your cute-as-hell worry wrinkle just got to be too much for you to handle, hmm?"

"Mmm. If you say so." _Whatever works._

Glancing back at his half-completed armour, Tony pecked a kiss to Steve's lips and stepped back, closing down his holographic images with a clap of his hands.

"We'll pick this back up in the morning, eh, J?"

"Very good, sir," answered JARVIS, and Steve could have sworn that he almost sounded relieved.

At least he wasn't the only one concerned for Tony's welfare.

"Better?" Tony asked once they were cuddled up in bed, his head resting in its usual spot on Steve's chest. He noticed that Tony felt a bit warmer than usual, but it was so slight that he brushed it off as either his imagination or as a result of the litre of coffee Tony had consumed since dinner time.

"Yes. Thank you," Steve whispered as he pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Mmm, I guess you're not too bad yourself," Tony said, barely audible over the nighttime rainshower that had suddenly begun to pelt against their windows, one that Steve had heard about on the evening news report.

Apparently nature was trying to force Steve into a rest day from running, since his alarm was due to go off in less than three hours.

"JARVIS, can you please cancel my alarm for the morning?" he asked quietly. He could always go for a run later in the day if the weather cleared up. "Just let me know once Peter wakes up."

"Of course, Captain," replied JARVIS. "Your 0600 alarm has been deactivated."

"Thank you," Steve whispered as he closed his eyes, hoping against hope that the rest of the night would be uneventful.

XXXX

_Steve had always hated hospitals. Always hated the pungent smells of blood, spit, and rotting flesh combined with the sharp scents of rubbing alcohol and lye. Always hated the hiss of the oxygen tents and the wet, junky coughs, and the awful gurgling sounds of patients struggling to breathe against lungs filled with fluid._

_And the subsequent suctioning noises that made him want to crawl out of his skin._

_And he'd hated them even more when it was his own lungs that were filled with fluid. When he was the patient who was coughing hard enough to crack his ribs, and who couldn't draw in a deep enough breath to keep his lips from turning blue or his upper body from shaking so violently that his teeth threatened to break free._

_But he'd never hated them as much as he did when Ma got sick._

_Assigned to the sickest patients just because she happened to be Irish, Ma had always been extra careful to avoid bringing any of the potentially deadly tuberculosis germs home to Steve, changing her clothing and scrubbing her entire body down with lye at the end of every single shift. But in the end, all of her cautiousness still wasn't enough to keep herself from contracting the deadly illness, forcing Steve to have to watch her die a prolonged, absolutely agonising death._

_And while his doctors had forbidden him from visiting Ma as she lay slowly dying in her own sanitarium, towards the end, Steve had done so anyway. Small enough to slip inside through the hospital's ventilation shafts, Steve had snuck into the ward after the doctor had completed his evening rounds and gone out for his smoking break, leaving the nurses busy with their other tasks. He could remember it like it was yesterday, still feel the knot in his throat as he tiptoed over to his beloved ma's bed and crawled in next to her, holding her frail, feverish body carefully lest she break apart right there in his arms. She was barely conscious by then, each laboured breath sounding like it was being forcibly pulled from her germ-laden lungs, and her heart thudding against the thin skin of her chest like it was trying to break open._

_And then, with tears streaming down his face, Steve told her that he loved her, and that it was okay. That he would be okay._

_That she had suffered enough, and it was time for her to go now. Time for her to be reunited with Steve's father._

_She was still breathing when Steve kissed her on the cheek and rose from the bed, tucking her rosary into her hand before slipping out of the ward in the same way he had entered. He learned the next day that she had passed sometime during the night, the rosary still clutched between her weathered fingers and a soft smile on her face, finally able to greet her beloved husband after nearly nineteen years spent apart._

_And while Steve had mourned her as dearly as he had loved her, he knew she had to be happier now that she was free of the horrible illness that had consumed so much of her life, first as a caregiver, then as a patient._

_It had been a small—albeit very small—consolation to Steve once he was finally accepted into the Army. With his chances of having the family he'd always desired practically non-existent, he figured that even if he were to die a soldier's death like his papa, at least he wouldn't be leaving behind a grieving spouse or a fatherless child._

_Except now, that was no longer the case. Now that he had the family he'd always desired, Steve was determined to hold onto it as tightly as he possibly could. He had no intention of ever leaving Tony behind alone, or leaving Peter to grow up without his papa._

_Just as he had no intention of becoming the one left behind, forced to raise his son on his own._

_That had been one of his first thoughts as he'd watched Tony fly through Loki's portal. How was he going to explain it to Peter?_

No, sweetheart, please! _he'd thought desperately._ Don't do this!

_Don't go somewhere I can't follow._

_Please…_

With a gasp, Steve's eyes flew open, flitting around the room as he took a quick inventory of his surroundings, realising a second or two later that yes, he was safe in his bedroom at the Tower, and not still embedded in one of his nightmares.

And Tony was right there next to him, curled up into his side. Not flying off into space to destroy another massive alien army.

Closing his eyes, Steve took several deep breaths, attempting to relax his tense muscles. Rain was still falling against the windows as he propped himself up onto his elbow and leaned over to give Tony a quick kiss on the cheek, his heart jumping into his throat when he realised that Tony's skin was so hot it nearly burned his lips.

"Tony?" Steve gasped as he pulled back in alarm, his terror skyrocketing as he noticed that the slight rasp he'd heard in Tony's breathing the night before was much, much worse, his pyjamas pants were practically glued to him with sweat, and his skin tone had transformed into a sickly grey colour that human skin had no business being.

"Tony?" he said again, high-pitched and frantic as he shook Tony's shoulder. "Oh God, sweetheart, wake up!"

"Mmm," Tony mumbled, followed by a series of coughs that were so guttural and soggy that Steve's stomach flipped. He quickly rolled Tony onto his back, nearly collapsing in relief when he saw that the arc reactor was still glowing its usual bright blue.

"Oh my God, Tony, you scared me!" Steve exclaimed as he brushed the sweat-matted hair from Tony's forehead, his skin so dry and hot that it was like touching the one of the tarred Brooklyn streets in the middle of summer.

"Huh?" Tony rasped, his lungs rumbling with each jagged inhale. "Steve? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Steve asked, aghast. "Tony, you sound awful, and you're burning up! We need—we need to get you to a hospital right away! JARVIS, please call—"

"No!" Tony yelped as he grabbed onto Steve's forearm, barely stifling another junky cough. "There is no way in _hell_ that I am going to any doctor or hospital, so you can just get that right outta your head right the hell now!"

"What? But _why?"_ Steve pleaded as he attempted to reach for his t-shirt, halted by Tony's tight grip on his arm. "Tony, you're obviously sick, so why—?"

"It's only a stupid chest cold, honey, and I absolutely refuse to go anywhere just for a goddamn chest cold," Tony stated. "It's no big deal, Steve. I'll be back to normal in a couple of days."

Steve sputtered, unable to comprehend why Tony was being so stubborn about this. How could he not understand that the arc reactor would probably make it harder for his body to fight off germs?

"How can you say that it's no big deal when you can barely breathe and you've completely sweated through your clothes?" Steve asked. "Sweetheart, please, just let me get you checked out! There's no telling what the arc reactor might've done to your lungs, and—"

Tony's fingers tightened on Steve's arm, his jaw clenched and his blunt nails digging into Steve's skin. "I said _no!"_ He shoved Steve's arm away, clearing his throat as he rolled onto his side. "Now, if you wanna say 'I told you so', then just do it now and get it over with. But don't you even think about trying to take me anywhere I don't wanna go, you got that?"

Tears pricked Steve's eyes, both from worry and from how upset Tony seemed to be. Like he was furious that Steve had the nerve to be worried about him.

"Why would you think that I'd say 'I told you so'?" Steve asked gently as he placed his palm on Tony's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Tony, do you really believe I would do that?"

Tony let out a heavy sigh that turned into another coughing fit, one that had Steve gritting his teeth by its end.

"No, I don't," he finally said, peeking at Steve over his shoulder. He bit down on his pale bottom lip, his glassy brown eyes filled with guilt. "Sorry, hon. I'm just…"

He trailed off, but Steve caught his meaning anyway. Since the very beginning of their relationship, Tony had practically cowered into a corner like a wounded animal every time they had a simple disagreement, shredding Steve's heart to pieces in the process. And then a few minutes later, once he'd realised that Steve had backed down, he would lash out at Steve, just as a wounded animal would.

And while Steve knew it was just another of Tony's defence mechanisms—both Tony and Peter had admitted as such—it still hurt pretty badly in the heat of the moment.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Steve whispered. He trailed the pad of his thumb along Tony's too-warm cheekbone, fighting the urge to just pick him up and cart him off to the hospital against his wishes. "I'm just worried. You look like you don't feel good at all, and—"

"Pardon me, Captain," JARVIS cut in. "But Master Peter is awake, and requesting information regarding Mr Stark's current status."

Steve frowned, wishing he'd thought to tell JARVIS not to say anything. "That's okay, JARVIS, but please tell Peter that he can't come in here. I don't want him exposed to anything until—"

"Tell him Steve will be out in a minute, J," interrupted Tony. He shot Steve a rather pointed look. "'Cause I'm _fine."_

"You most certainly are not!" Steve retorted. "JARVIS, can you tell me Tony's body temperature, please? And his heart and respiratory rates?"

"What?" protested Tony. "No—!"

"Mr Stark's body temperature is currently thirty-eight point eight Celsius, Captain," answered JARVIS. "Heart rate is one hundred and ten beats per minute, respiratory rate is twenty-two breaths per minute. All three are elevated."

"But not critical," Tony said with a frown. He drew in another raspy breath, clutching his abdomen as another coughing fit hit him. "Which means I'll be fine in a couple of days, just like I said."

"Not critical yet, at least," muttered Steve, softening his words with a quick kiss to Tony's forehead. "Now, if you're going to insist that I not take you to a hospital, I suppose I can let that slide for the time being. But if I sense that you're getting sicker, or if your temp spikes up much higher, I'm not going to wait, sweetheart. I can't—I just can't take the chance."

Tony's frown deepened into one that might've splattered Steve all over the bedroom floor if he hadn't looked so obviously ill.

"Fine," he finally said. "But I'll have you know now that it'll be done under protest."

Steve pursed his lips. Ma had been stubborn too, and look where it had gotten her.

"Well, if that's what it takes to keep you with me, then so be it," Steve said. "I'll take that chance."

"Mmm," muttered Tony. "Stubborn soldier."

"That's right. And you love me for it," said Steve. "And because of that, I'm going to be setting some rules, all right? First, you're gonna let me take care of you until JARVIS and I both say you're completely better, is that understood?" He raised his hand, cutting off Tony's attempted protest. "No arguing, sweetheart."

Tony huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine."

"Good," Steve said, smiling softly. "Now, after I get you a cool washcloth for your forehead and fluff up your pillows, I'm gonna go into the kitchen and make you some of my ma's chicken noodle soup and her cinnamon/honey tea. And while I'm gone, I want you to stay in this bed, all right? No getting up unless you've gotta use the bathroom or something. Okay?" He held his breath as Tony's lips twitched, his eyes scanning Steve's face as though he was looking for something specific.

"All right, honey," he murmured, nodding. "Copy that."

"Thank you," whispered Steve. After ordering a humidifier and a large supply of Vicks VapoRub to be delivered to the Tower, Steve retrieved the damp washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning the dried sweat from Tony's body before helping him change into a fresh t-shirt and pair of pyjama pants. Then he swapped out all three of Tony's pillowcases and tucked him back into bed, handing him his tablet and a full glass of water.

"Now remember, I want you to rest as much as possible," Steve said as he touched Tony's cheek, relieved to find that his skin was already a bit cooler. "You promised."

"Yeah, yeah, hon," Tony said, rather dismissively. "You'd better get going and feed the kid, I'm sure Pete's trying to gnaw his own arm off by now."

"You know Peter's perfectly capable of making his own breakfast, sweetheart, but I can take a hint," Steve gently admonished. "I'll be back soon with your tea."

With a final kiss to Tony's forehead, Steve stepped into the hallway just in time to hear a sharp cracking noise followed by a startled, "Whoops!" that sounded all too familiar. Fighting the urge to chuckle, Steve was not surprised when he stepped into the kitchen to find Peter cleaning raw egg from the vent over the stove.

"Um… morning Papa," Peter said, wincing. "I'm sorry, I kinda—well, I mean, I guess I just—"

"It's all right, little guy," Steve said as he grabbed a handful of paper towels to help with the cleanup. It wasn't the first time that Peter's attempt at cracking an egg had gone badly wrong, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

Until they were able to meet with the SHIELD geneticist and hopefully get some answers for Peter's strange symptoms, Steve had a feeling there would be a lot more exploded eggs in his future.

And torn backpacks and hoodie zippers, ripped shoelaces, and broken drawers and cabinet handles. Peter had once described it as feeling like a bull in a china shop, while still resembling a harmless bunny rabbit. He simply couldn't seem to control his own strength, but since it was so randomly inconsistent, he never knew exactly what to expect.

It was extremely frustrating for him, and for Steve and Tony as well, being unable to help him.

"Is Dad okay?" Peter asked as they scrubbed the vent clean of egg yolk. "JARVIS said he was sick, and that I couldn't go in to see him, but—"

"Dad's gonna be fine, little guy," Steve said firmly. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "He says it's just a simple chest cold, but—"

"But with the arc reactor, he should probably get checked out, don't you think?" Peter asked, his sweet brown eyes wide with worry. "But let me guess. Dad said no, right?"

"Yes, he did," Steve said with a heavy sigh. "He made me promise that I wouldn't take him anywhere unless he got much worse."

Peter bit down on his bottom lip. "Yeah, that sounds like him. He hates going to the doctor for anything, hates being fussed over, like he says. But are you sure he won't get worse? Dad doesn't get sick very often, he hasn't since I was little. But when he does, it tends to be pretty bad."

"No, little guy, I'm not positive," admitted Steve. "But you and I are gonna do whatever we can to keep him from getting to that point, all right? When I was growing up, my ma and I didn't always have the money for me to see a doctor, but since she was a nurse, she knew all kinds of good tricks to help me feel better."

"Oh, I bet!" said Peter. "And I'm sure you remember all of 'em, huh?"

Steve let out a soft smile. "Yeah, I do." He flicked his eyes over to the pantry as he reached for the freezer door. "Can you find the boxes of chicken broth in there for me? We're gonna get started on some soup."

"Oh, I always love chicken noodle soup when I'm sick!" Peter said as he retrieved the broth, thankfully with no issue. "And I bet yours'll taste even better than the restaurant stuff I've always had."

"Well, let's hope so," Steve said as he unearthed some chicken thighs from the freezer, setting them onto his favourite cutting board before washing his hands. "We'll start with the tea first, and some breakfast for you, little guy, and then once the soup's done we'll bring him some of that. Sound good?"

"Uh huh," Peter murmured, winding his arms around Steve's waist so quickly and forcefully that Steve had to grab onto the counter to steady himself. "I'm just glad Dad's got you to take care of him now. Whenever he was sick before he just toughed it out 'cause he didn't have anyone to take care of him. He'd never let me see him, 'cause he was afraid I'd get sick too, and I always got so lonely 'cause I missed him."

"Well, I promise I'm gonna always be here to take care of him when he's sick, all right?" Steve whispered into Peter's soft curls. "And you too, little guy. I'll take care of you both."

Peter sniffed, nodding against Steve's chest. "Uh huh, Papa."

"That's my boy," Steve said proudly. "That does still mean that you need to stay out of our room until Dad's feeling better though, okay? We can't risk you getting whatever he's got."

"Uh huh," Peter said, his narrow shoulders sagging in defeat. "Good thing it's a Saturday, hmm? So I can help you?"

"That's right," Steve said as he grabbed the teakettle, filling it with water. He'd always preferred hot tea over coffee, with peppermint tea being his absolute favourite. But ever since Peter's odd reaction to some peppermint ice cream a few weeks before the Battle of New York, Steve had switched to drinking cinnamon tea instead, and had grown quite fond of it.

And, since cinnamon was not only a good germ fighter but also tasted good when mixed with honey, it made the perfect choice for Tony as well.

After making himself and Peter some quick scrambled eggs and toast, Steve poured a large mug of steaming hot water over one of his regular herbal tea bags, stirring in a teaspoon of honey.

"All right, little guy, take this carefully," Steve said as he handed Peter a stick of cinnamon. Still overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices in the grocery store spice aisle, Steve preferred to stick with what he knew as much as possible. Which meant buying actual cinnamon sticks and grating the amount that he needed instead of relying on the powdered stuff that seemed to be preferred now.

"Now, go ahead and run the end of the cinnamon along the finest side of the grater there," Steve said, smiling at Peter's look of intense concentration as he grated the small stick along the sharp ridges. "Good! That's right, we don't need too much. Just enough to help keep Dad's nose and lungs nice and open so he can breathe."

"Uh huh," Peter said, his nose adorably scrunched as he finished grating the finely powdered spice. "Wow! This smells so yummy!"

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Steve said as he took the rest of the stick from Peter, placing it back into its jar. "Go ahead and sprinkle it into the mug now, all right?"

"Got it," said Peter as he finished tapping the cinnamon into the mug. "And your ma used to make you this when you were little?"

"All the time, little guy," Steve said fondly. "Cinnamon's actually good for a lot of things. It helps keep bugs away, it's good for upset stomachs, and it's great for opening up your airways."

"Then how come none of my doctors ever told my dad about it?" asked Peter. "It has to be a lot cheaper than all of my inhalers and stuff!"

"Well…" Steve trailed off as he stirred the cinnamon and honey into the hot tea. To say that he was appalled when he'd learned how much modern medicines tended to cost in the twenty-first century would be an understatement. His own ma had had enough trouble trying to afford the medicines he'd needed so often as a child, he couldn't imagine what they would've done if the prices had been anywhere close to as high as they were now.

"It's probably 'cause the drug companies are just greedy," Peter added before Steve could come up with anything else. "They know people need the medicines they make in order to live, so they think they can charge whatever they want for 'em."

"That's probably most of it, little guy," said Steve. He'd seen enough of how the government worked—especially in the aftermath of the Battle of New York—to know that he didn't approve of most of it.

And since drug companies, or at least their CEO's, tended to donate heavily to political campaigns, it didn't take a genius to follow the logic there.

"Well, hopefully Dad's new foundation is gonna help with that," stated Peter. "He told me that Pepper already approved big discounts to the medicines that Stark Industries helped to develop, and she also set up a slush fund for certain really expensive medicines as part of the Stark Relief Foundation. Things like Epi-Pens and insulin, and certain cancer drugs."

"That's 'cause your father's not like any other billionaire, right, little guy?" Steve asked, ruffling Peter's hair. "You think you could pour the chicken broth into our big stockpot for me while I take Dad his tea?"

Peter gave a nod. "Uh huh. Can you tell him I hope he's feeling better?"

Steve grinned widely. Peter Edwin Stark was absolutely the sweetest kid he had ever seen, and there were many times when Steve still couldn't believe he was able to call him his son.

 _I am such a lucky man,_ he thought as he carried the steaming mug down to his bedroom, rapping gently on the door before stepping inside. He found Tony propped up against his pillows, wearing one of Steve's zippered sweatshirts with his tablet resting on his chest as he dozed. Setting down the mug, Steve touched the backs of his fingers first to Tony's forehead, then his cheek, relieved when his skin didn't seem to be any hotter than it had been earlier. The rasp in his breathing was still there, but thankfully it wasn't any worse either.

"JARVIS? How are Tony's vital signs doing?" he asked quietly.

"Mr Stark's current temperature is thirty-eight point two Celsius, his heart rate has decreased to one hundred and one, and his respiratory rate is twenty-one. All are still slightly elevated."

"Yes, but they haven't gotten any worse, which is good," answered Steve.

"That is correct, Captain," said JARVIS.

Steve nodded as he carefully took the tablet off Tony's chest, his heart jumping in relief when he saw that the soft blue glow of the arc reactor was unchanged.

Tony was stable. For the moment, at least.

"Mmm," Tony murmured, blinking his eyes open as Steve moved to get off the bed. His fingers curled around Steve's wrist, holding him in place. "Where d'ya think you're going, hot stuff?"

"I just brought you your tea," Steve whispered as he brought Tony's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. "I'm sorry I woke you."

The corners of Tony's lips curled into a slight smile. "Eh, I'm not. Would've been upset if I'd missed a chance to ogle you in all of your mother-hen glory."

"Tony!" Steve said, chuckling as he shook his head. Only Tony Stark would try to flirt while sick as a dog.

"You are incorrigible. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure I've heard someone mention something like that at some point," Tony said with a wink. He suddenly clutched his abdomen as he launched into another long series of coughs, a fit that left him gasping for breath once it was over.

"Well, it's a good thing you haven't completely lost yourself," Steve said once Tony had settled back against his pillows. He picked up the mug of tea, holding it up to Tony's mouth. "Careful, okay? It's pretty hot."

"Mmm, that's not bad," Tony said after taking a tentative sip. "Pete help you make it?"

"He did," Steve said proudly. "He even grated the cinnamon for me."

"Ah, he's such an awesome kid," Tony said as he took another sip.

"That he is," murmured Steve. _And just about as stubborn as you are._ "He asked me to tell you that he hopes you're feeling better, and that he misses you."

Tony sighed as he curled his fingers around the mug and brought it to his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed. "Yeah, I bet. Can't take the chance, though. Don't want him getting sick right before school's out for the summer. It's bad enough that…" He trailed off, but Steve understood what he meant. Peter had missed the final three months of his last school year because of the trip to Afghanistan, and everything that had happened afterwards.

"He has had it pretty easy this year," Tony added. "Usually he's out three or four times a winter with some respiratory crud or another. Maybe puberty's actually agreeing with him. It seemed to cure his eyesight, so why not his lungs too?"

"Well, we can hope, right?" Steve said as he kissed Tony's forehead. "Rest now. I'll come back once your soup's done, but call me if you need anything before then, okay? Please?"

"Yes, honey," Tony said, playfully rolling his eyes. "I'm not a complete invalid, you know. In fact, I'd still be working on my suit if it weren't for you."

"And you'd probably be much worse than you are now," insisted Steve. "Which is even more reason to rest, don't you think? It's much easier to fight off germs when you let your body rest."

"Yeah, yeah. Did I mention the mother hen part yet?" muttered Tony. "Now, go on and regale Pete with your vast knowledge of early twentieth century cold remedies. I'm sure he's eating it up."

"All right," Steve murmured. "I love you."

Tony smiled, his lips twitching ever so slightly, like he still couldn't quite believe it when Steve told him he loved him.

"Love you too, babe," he whispered. "Now get."

Arriving back in the kitchen, Steve was pleased to find that not only had Peter started heating up the chicken broth, he had also begun prepping the chicken. Steve had explained to him once they started grocery shopping together that he and his ma had always used chicken thighs for their soups and stews since they were both less expensive than chicken breasts and had more nutrients.

They were also easier to cook, heating completely through in about half the time as a regular chicken breast. After sprinkling the thighs with some olive oil and a touch of salt and pepper and setting them to steam roast on the stove, Steve set Peter to shredding some carrots, a much easier task for a twelve-year-old boy whose strength varied from one to a thousand at any given time than grating fragile cinnamon sticks. They then added the carrot shreds to some chopped up celery and fresh basil leaves, fresh garlic, and a pinch of oregano and black pepper, stirring it all with a wooden spoon. After adding the cooked chicken and some elbow macaroni noodles, Steve and Peter set up a quick chess game at the table while it all simmered for about fifteen minutes, finally ladling a big bowl of the soup for Peter to try.

"Oh, Papa, this is so yummy!" he said after he'd swallowed his first steaming spoonful. "Dad's gonna love it, it's so much better than the store-bought stuff!"

Steve beamed as he took a mouthful of his own soup, closing his eyes against the wave of nostalgia that hit him square in the chest. Peter had told Steve the previous summer that tuberculosis was no longer an issue in the U.S., that it was barely even talked about, and Steve couldn't help but feel a bit bitter about the fact that his ma had had to die such a horrible death from an illness that was nothing more than a footnote in most medical texts only a few decades later.

Would Steve have been as gung-ho to join the Army if his ma had still been alive when Pearl Harbour was bombed? He supposed there was no way to know for sure.

What he did know, though, was that aside from helping his ma, there's no way Steve would change anything that had happened.

There was no way he would trade the life and family that he had now. Not for anything.

"I'm gonna take some to Dad now, okay, little guy?" Steve said. Tony had been napping the last time he'd checked on him, when he'd brought in the humidifier and VapoRub, and had woken only a few moments ago. His fever had spiked a bit while he'd been sleeping, but not high enough to worry Steve more than he already was.

Loading up a tray with a bowl of the hot soup, some oyster crackers, and another mug of the cinnamon tea, Steve made his way to their room to find Tony sitting up in bed, blotting his forehead with the washcloth Steve had left for him.

"Think the fever just broke again," he said as Steve set the tray down across Tony's lap, sitting down next to him. "So you're just in time."

"Good," Steve said softly. He handed Tony the soup spoon, waiting nervously for him to take the first spoonful. Peter had told him it was delicious, but from what Steve had seen over the last year, Peter was far less picky about his food than Tony was.

"Oohh, honey, that's good," Tony said once he'd swallowed, clearing his throat. "What magic did you use to conjure up this concoction?"

"No magic," Steve said as Tony took another bite. "It's my ma's recipe, passed down from her ma."

Tony nodded, blotting his chin with the washcloth. "Your ma was a pretty neat lady, yeah?"

Steve sighed, shifting slightly on the bed. "Yeah, she was. One of the strongest people I've ever met. Besides you and Peter, of course."

"Mmm," muttered Tony as he popped an oyster cracker into his mouth. He still had trouble accepting compliments from Steve, something Steve was actively working to change. "Tell me more about her. What was she like?"

Steve breathed in, at a loss on where to start. "She would've loved you," he finally said. "She would've been plenty suspicious at first, she always was with anyone who wasn't Irish, but your charm would've won her over pretty fast."

"Yeah, I do have a bit of that, don't I?" Tony said with a wink. He tilted his head, his eyes sweeping across Steve's face. "Do you think she knew that you… that you were…?"

"I think she did," answered Steve, his cheeks flushing hot. "She never said as much, but she was almost as perceptive as Peter, so… I'd be shocked if she hadn't at least suspected it was the case. And to her credit, she never told me that I needed to find a gal to settle down with. Oh, she encouraged me to go out, especially on double-dates with Bucky, but… she never wondered why those dates never went anywhere." He picked up Tony's hand, tracing his fingertips along the lines of his palm. "And I know she would've loved Peter too. Unconditionally."

"As a grandma should, yeah?" Tony said sadly. "Pete never got to meet my parents either, but… I know my mom would've loved him. It's not fair that he only had me for so long. Well, me and Rhodey. Rhodey adores him, loves him as an uncle, but it's still not the same, ya know? Obie had the chance, but… the asshole just never took it."

Steve frowned at the mention of Obadiah. "Well, I can't say I'm not glad that we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Yeah, I'd have to agree with you there, honey," said Tony. "And kudos to your ma for being so awesome, yeah?"

"Absolutely," said Steve. He cupped Tony's cheek, brushing a soft kiss across his lips. "What else can I get for you?"

Tony's brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Not a thing at the moment, hon. Just keep the kid happy, which you're damn good at."

"All right," Steve murmured. "I'll be back in an hour or so to check on you."

He found Peter in the kitchen working through his third bowl of soup, with the makings for an entire fresh pot already arranged on the stove and countertops.

"I already got started on another batch of soup, Papa, I hope that's okay," he said as he popped three oyster crackers into his mouth. "You want Dad to keep eating it, right?"

"I sure do, little guy," answered Steve. "And he says he's feeling a bit better too, thanks to all of your help."

"You mean, our help?" Peter said as he tipped his bowl up to his mouth, downing the last of the broth. "'Cause we make a pretty good team, don't we?"

Steve's throat tightened. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Sarah Rogers would have adored Peter Edwin Stark.

And he, her.

"We sure do, little guy," he whispered as he pulled Peter into a hug. "We sure do."

* * *

Steve ended up cajoling Tony to stay in bed for three days, a full twenty-four hours after his fever finally broke for good and the skin-crawling rasp in his breathing finally faded into oblivion. It took all of his powers of persuasion—and a blowjob—to keep Tony from leaping from the bed as soon as JARVIS announced that he was fever-free, but Steve wanted to be extra cautious.

He had to make sure that the arc reactor didn't flicker into nothingness, not even for one single second.

And, just like Steve had promised Tony when he'd confined him to bed, once he was well, he found his unfinished armoured suit waiting for him in his lab, right where he'd left it.

And, even better, Peter didn't get sick either, finishing out his school year with straight A's, his position at the top of his class firmly in hand.

"It's gonna be nice to get out of the city, don't you think, hon?" Tony asked once they had crawled into bed, Steve's chest firmly pressed against Tony's back. They were heading back to Malibu in the morning on Tony's private airplane, intending to spend the summer relaxing, playing on the beach, and going to Disneyland.

Which, after recent events, sounded just fine to Steve.

"I do," Steve whispered, tightening his arm around Tony's waist. He trailed his fingertips up Tony's abdomen to his chest, circling the arc reactor, the soft blue glow reflecting off of the silky ivory sheets. There were still plenty of nights when his dreams haunted him, when Tony's bright blue light dulled to grey before disappearing completely, and he cried out in anguish.

There were still so many uncertainties. Peter's symptoms, the alien army Tony saw out in space, and the strange blue gem housed on the end of Loki's staff just to name a few. But the one thing that Steve knew without a doubt was that he was in love with Tony Stark and his precious son, and that they loved him.

They were a team, as Peter had so aptly put it. And as long as they had each other, no obstacle would be too high to climb.

* * *

_**Stop by and see me on tumblr, I’m[geekymoviemom](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/geekymoviemom) and [geeky-writes](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/geeky-writes) there! 😊 ** _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this domestic superfamily story! Please don’t forget to hit the kudos button and leave me a comment! 💗


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